A Shoulder to Lean On
by Ariel D
Summary: SANDSIBS fic. Both Gaara and Kankuro need Temari to fill the role of older sister, but neither can tell her. Post Sasuke Retrieval, pre Shippuuden. Part 1: Kankuro. Part 2: Gaara.
1. Kankuro

**A Shoulder to Lean On**

By Ariel D

_Description: SANDSIBS fic. Both Gaara and Kankuro need Temari to fill the role of older sister, but neither can tell her. Post Sasuke Retrieval, pre Shippuuden._

_Disclaimer: Kankuro, Temari, and the Naruto-verse are copyrighted by Masashi Kishimoto and Weekly Shonen Jump. I am making no profit; this is just for fun._

_A/N: Not Sandcest. Set four months after the rescue Sasuke arc. This will be 2 chapters, with the first focusing on Kankuro and the second on Gaara._

_Translations (jic): "ototo" means "younger brother" and "nee-san" means "older sister."_

* * *

**Part I: Kankuro**

Sometimes he just needed her. He wouldn't tell her; in fact, when the need hit, he wouldn't even look at her. But sometimes he wished she'd just walk up and hug him or that he could thunk his head down on her shoulder and let her hold him. Some days he needed his big sister, but he held the emotion in. Suna shinobi were made of tougher stuff than that, and it wasn't something he should want or need.

Kankuro sighed and glanced at Temari as they crossed the desert toward Suna. In the light of the full moon, his sister's grim expression was clear. Since Gaara was getting himself assigned to different teams regularly, they had taken a C-rank mission as a two-person team. Kankuro was proud of his younger brother for working so hard to make a connection with the skittish villagers, but because of Gaara's absence, this mission had gone harder than he and Temari had expected. Kankuro was covered in gashes and bruises, and his sister had fared little better.

Temari returned his glace. "Don't slow down. We have to reach the oasis before dawn, or we'll die out here."

Kankuro stared at the flat expanse of sand around them and sighed. "I know." _Push on, don't stop, don't admit to exhaustion or weakness,_he internally recited to himself.

His sister didn't reply, and he didn't expect her to. She could always sense if he was falling behind or losing resolve. She smelled it on him like a dog could smell fear in a rabbit. All their childhood, from the time they entered training together, she had pushed him ruthlessly. And he had always pushed back, challenging her, giving her as much attitude as she gave him. It had been their mode of defense, of survival, at the hands of an uncaring and demanding father.

Still, sometimes he wished he could turn to her for comfort . . .

"Don't wimp out on me now," Temari said after a minute.

Kankuro realized he'd fallen a step behind her again. "Don't be that way. I lost more blood than you did."

"You have more to lose."

He knew she was teasing, giving him lip — it was their game. "Never thought I'd hear you say you're scrawny."

"As if." Temari smirked. He'd won that round, but he knew she'd get him back. "The oasis is just about a mile away. Even you can make it that far."

Round two had already commenced. "Don't start that again. Two puppets are equally heavy as an oversized metal fan."

She snorted. "Men are supposed to have better upper body strength."

Kankuro grinned at her ploy. "Women are supposed to have better lower body strength."

"So you admit I run faster?" She cast a smile over her shoulder. "Or you admit I have better running endurance?"

"Neither." She'd won that round; one-to-one.

Temari just laughed and kept her pace, and Kankuro fought to stay with her. Still, by the time they reached the oasis, his blood loss had gotten the better of him. With trembling legs, he sank by the pond and cupped the fresh water to his mouth. He closed his eyes, finding relief in the cold drink but feeling decidedly weak.

Temari knelt by him. "You're ghostly pale. You weren't joking; you really did lose too much blood."

Kankuro shrugged. He was supposed to dismiss it as nothing — that was the way of a shinobi.

"Idiot," Temari muttered, pulling out some dried beef jerky from her pack. "Here. Eat this and rest up. In our condition, we can't travel any further for awhile, and with daybreak approaching, we shouldn't anyway."

Kankuro stared at the food. "What will you eat?"

She shoved it at him. "I have more."

Arguing with her had always been useless. "Fine." He accepted the jerky and bit it, tugging off a piece. As he chewed, he moved back to a small rock outcropping and situated himself against the smooth stone, using it to support his back. He allowed his legs to slide out straight before him, and he stared at them as he ate. He'd always been solidly built but never fat; however, over the past few months, he'd taken a severe growth spurt, shooting up a full two inches. Now his pants were getting a bit high on his calf, and the waist was getting too loose. If this continued, he'd have to replace his favorite bunraku outfit.

The worst part, though, was the way he was hungry all the time. He could eat six times a day and still lose weight. So even as tired as he was, he nearly inhaled the beef jerky and still felt famished.

Temari was watching him with concern. "What is it?"

"Still hungry," he admitted. "It's like an epidemic."

She grinned. "What did the med nin say at your last checkup?"

Kankuro cringed. "It's normal. They say I'll be taller than father was and probably broader in the shoulders."

Temari laughed. "Uh-hm. So my _ototo_will be the tall and muscular type?"

Kankuro considered that mental picture for a moment and decided it wouldn't be a bad thing. "If I survive the part where I feel like I'm starving all the time."

"I can handle that." Temari stood up, opened her fan, and aimed a swing of cutting wind at the nearest palm tree. Several coconuts rained to the ground. "There. That should help."

He grunted, realizing that he'd been so dazed that he'd failed to consider the natural supply of coconuts. Since his strong suit had always been information gathering, it underscored for him how zoned out he was.

Temari cracked open a few coconuts, then carried them over and set them beside her brother. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Kankuro said, picking up one half and drinking the milk out of it before biting into its flesh.

Temari knelt beside him on his left and pulled out a tin of medicinal ointment. "Let me treat those wounds."

Kankuro paused, knowing he should maintain his tough-guy act, pretend he didn't need help, and brush off his injuries as insignificant. But in truth, he wanted a bit of care.

His sister apparently read his intentions. "Don't you start in with your attitude," she said, opening the tin.

"My attitude? Like you can talk," he replied, but his rebuff sounded half-hearted even to himself.

His sister smirked. "I'm the eldest; I can have as much attitude as I want."

Kankuro glanced at her, seeing the amusement glittering in her green eyes, and relaxed against the rock face, setting down his half-eaten coconut.

"Better," she muttered, then dipped her finger in the ointment and reached out, treating the wounds on his forehead and cheeks. "You did take quite a beating," she commented as she worked around his face paint.

"So did you." Kankuro felt a flash of irritation.

"Don't be so moody," Temari replied, snorting. "It was an observation, not an insult. That turned out to be harder than a C-rank mission, and our pay better reflect it."

Kankuro nodded, feeling more and more tired. "Yeah . . ."

Temari picked up his left arm and gently treated the gash racing down his forearm. "You might need stitches for this."

He grimaced; he despised stitches. "Don't say that. Just bind it tight."

She nodded and pulled out a roll of bandages, wrapping his arm firmly. Kankuro watched her work and wondered if moments like these — moments in which his older sister looked after him with such unspoken care — was what it felt like to have a mother. Since he'd been two when his father had ordered his mother killed, he couldn't remember what it felt like.

Temari glanced at him and must have seen something odd in his expression; she paused after tying the knot on the bandage. "What is it?"

Kankuro glanced away, embarrassed. "Nothing."

She hesitated, then reached out and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head against her shoulder. "It's okay, you know." She pulled off his hood and kissed the top of his head.

Kankuro squirmed a second, struck with a teenager's urge to avoid such obvious shows of affection. "_Nee-san . . ._" However, his resistance lasted only a moment, his willpower losing completely to his need to have someone who cared for him. He relaxed against her, letting her embrace him.

"I said it was okay," she repeated softly.

She knew. What was more, Kankuro realized, she understood and felt the same way. He didn't reply; he simply wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her back. "_Nee-san . . ._" He couldn't quite bring himself to say it — to tell her that he loved her.

"_Ototo,_" she said in the same soft voice, and he knew she once again understood his feelings and returned them. She always had, but they'd never vocalized it once in their lives.

"Thank you," he said simply, closing his eyes and letting the cool desert breeze wash over him.

"Always," she replied just as simply, settling beside him without releasing the embrace.

Kankuro smiled and let himself drift to sleep, secure in the knowledge that even though they'd grown up isolated in the world, trapped with a cold father on one side and an insane brother on the other, they had always had each other and always would.

* * *

_A/N: No standing insult to Gaara there, of course; Kankuro knows he's changing. Speaking of which, Gaara's scene with Temari will be next._

_Thank you to Darkhelmetj for betareading and to anyone who reads and reviews. I wrote this specifically for the people who asked me to write Temari — you know who you are!_


	2. Gaara

**A Shoulder to Lean On, Part II**

By Ariel D

_Description: SANDSIBS fic. Both Gaara and Kankuro need Temari to fill the role of older sister, but neither can tell her. Post Sasuke Retrieval, pre Shippuuden._

_Disclaimer: Kankuro, Temari, and the Naruto-verse are copyrighted by Masashi Kishimoto and Weekly Shonen Jump. I am making no profit; this is just for fun._

_A/N: Set four months after the rescue Sasuke arc. Part I is Kankuro, and part II is Gaara. Part II refers briefly to the events of Part I (i.e., Kankuro being injured)._

_Translations (jic): "ototo" means "younger brother" and "nee-san" means "older sister."_

* * *

**Part II: Gaara**

Gaara hovered in the kitchen doorway, gazing at Temari, who was collecting pots and pans, knives and food as she prepared to cook supper. A question had been plaguing him for months, and as he watched his sister, it returned to him again: What did it mean to have siblings? Up until he'd fought Naruto, his bonds with others had irritated him at best and often provoked homicidal urges. Now, though, he found himself watching Kankuro and Temari and wondering what it would feel like to engage in a familial bond with them. And the longer he pondered it, the more he needed it. With Kankuro, he had taken a chance and shared his dreams, and to his utter relief, his brother had both listened and taken him seriously. But ever since the invasion of Konoha, when Temari had last seen him transform, Gaara found his sister less approachable. Still, he wished he could connect with her.

Gaara watched Temari set about chopping vegetables for stir-fry and frowned at her awkward movements. "Would you like help?"

Temari paused and glanced at him in surprise. "Sure."

"What do you need me to do?" Gaara gazed down at his feet, uncomfortable with his own initiative. When their father had died, the siblings had been forced to dismiss the household servants and learn to cook and clean for themselves. Temari had organized a task list, tentatively approaching Gaara with his third of the responsibility. However, Gaara had accepted his role without comment, seeing the assignment as a practical necessity. Where he'd failed horribly, though, was in cooking. Temari was an awkward cook who could cover the basics; Kankuro had a flare for it, showing an inexplicable understanding of what spices to experiment with. Gaara burned everything he touched.

Still, Gaara knew he had to help today, so he joined Temari by the kitchen counter. Kankuro had been injured on his latest mission with Temari and was asleep, trying to recover from blood loss.

"Why don't you chop these vegetables?" Temari handed him the knife.

Gaara looked up and nodded, accepting the knife and slowly cutting up the vegetables while Temari put rice in the rice cooker and set about grilling some fish.

Efficient, practical, no nonsense . . . this was his sister. Gaara frowned at the red peppers he was slicing, trying to figure out what he could even say to her. Of the last two people he'd tried to connect with — other than his recent attempts with Kankuro — one had slammed the door in his face and the other had tried to kill him.

Gaara paused, uncomfortable. What did he and his sister even have in common? They were both shinobi, but talking about work seemed impersonal, even to Gaara. Past that, the only thing they shared in common was . . .

"Kankuro," Gaara said quietly.

She glanced at him. "What about him?"

Now what? Gaara forged ahead. "How . . . how severe are his injuries, exactly?"

"Nothing a few days of rest and meals won't cover." Temari smiled at him — a genuine smile. "You know Kankuro. He may have a bad attitude sometimes, but he's impossible to keep down."

"True." Gaara resumed chopping the vegetables, feeling at a loss. Awkward, awkward silence. He couldn't think of anything to keep their conversation going. How was he supposed to discover these precious bonds Naruto spoke of if he couldn't hold a conversation on anything other than violence and death?

With a small sigh, he picked up the cutting board and slid the peppers into the frying pan. Then he began slicing carrots, thinking that his only choice was to try to generate more talk of their brother. "Since I . . ." He frowned, feeling an unexpected pain flash through him — an old pain. "Since I was kept isolated from you two, I don't know. Did Kankuro always have such a bad attitude?"

Temari paused over the fish she was grilling, her wide eyes showing her surprise.

He pinned his gaze to the carrots. He knew his behavior was decidedly uncharacteristic, but lately he had wondered about his siblings.

Temari turned her attention back to the fish, flipping each one. "Funny you should ask. I was thinking about that myself during our mission." Her expression softened. "No. When he was a young child, he was sweet." She stared at the fish as though she could see through them into the past. "He was always first to greet Baki when he arrived to train us, always managed to remember everyone's birthdays, and always gave people random presents just because he knew they liked something." She paused, her voice growing quiet and sad. "Baki has a secret weakness for sweet dumplings, and Kankuro would bring him some. He was never sucking up . . . just happy to make others happy."

Gaara felt a looming sense of trepidation. "What happened?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her jaw momentarily. "Father considered him too soft and set about 'toughening him up.' It worked quickly and effectively. By his eighth birthday, he'd become sullen and irritable, and by the time he was ten, he became really smart-assed."

Gaara accidentally dropped the knife. "'Toughening him up'?" he repeated, and in his mind's eye, he saw the endless barge of kunai, of swords, of poisoned needles — the hundreds of ways his father's assassins had tried to kill him. Knowing how ruthless his father had been, Gaara couldn't imagine that his brother had undergone anything other than extreme cruelty. In that moment, he felt like he shared something more than blood with Kankuro.

Temari stepped toward him, looking worried. "Gaara? You okay?"

He started to dismiss her concern, then realized it was her care that he wanted. What he really wanted was a bond, because he knew better than anyone that people couldn't win against their loneliness. "Not entirely."

She reached toward him, paused, then squeezed his arm. "It's about Father, isn't it?"

Gaara gazed at her hand, struck by how something so simple made him feel like he mattered. "Yes." He hesitated, realizing the significance of the entire conversation. "Father wasn't . . . kind to any of us, was he? He tried to kill me, but he was hateful and cruel toward you and Kankuro, too."

"Very."

Gaara realized he had a third and unfortunate thing in common with his sister. "I'm sorry. I never stopped to even consider it."

"Hey . . ." She smiled, biting her lip for a moment, then drew him into a loose embrace. "You had more to deal with than either of us, and it's enough that you're considering it now."

Gaara froze, shocked senseless by this unexpected and unfamiliar physical contact. Still, the hug felt warm and safe, and he found himself slowly relaxing against her. Suddenly, she didn't seem so standoffish and blunt; he could sense something else in her — some type of guardian instinct. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to understand what it meant to have an older sister.

Temari reached up and ran her hand through his hair, gently separating the locks and pushing them away from his face. At the kind touch, the lifelong pain that burned in Gaara's heart exploded, stinging his chest as though he'd been shot with poisoned needles. He gasped and started to jerk away from her, but he couldn't quite make himself do it.

"T-Temari . . ." He couldn't find the words to tell her how it hurt, and yet how he needed her at the same time.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. She hugged him tighter, rubbing his back with her palms.

Instinctively, he reached up and wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to draw comfort from the embrace. "Do you . . . ?" he began, but he couldn't bring himself to ask the question: do you love me? He didn't understand what love was, exactly, and he was afraid of her answer.

She seemed to sense his distress. "It's okay, _ototo,_" she whispered. A long pause followed, and when she continued, her voice remained quiet. "I . . . I'm here now. By your side. If you want me to be."

The words seared through him, cutting through his chest as surely as any katana. He hugged her tighter, squeezing his eyes shut in pain, knowing that his heart remained broken. After a moment, however, the pain began to drift away, slipping away from him like sand through his fingers.

"Yes," he finally replied, and it was all he could say. What he wanted and needed, what he dreamt of and worked toward, he couldn't quite verbalize to her. He didn't know why, since he could talk to Kankuro about it. Had knowing his mother cursed him left him more vulnerable to women's words? Or had he somehow always sensed what Temari had spoken of — the deeply buried and battered sensitivity that Kankuro hid under his punk attitude and Kabuki paint? Something, though, made Gaara only able to open himself to his brother.

And yet . . . and yet . . . as Temari embraced him, he felt his pain, like grains of sand, float away in an unfelt breeze.

She released him and gave him a grin — the wide kind that revealed her perfectly straight, white teeth. Gaara recognized the smile as the one she reserved for moments when she was truly happy . . .

. . . and ready to tease someone.

"Let's finish supper, ne?" She turned back to the fish, flipping them again, then glanced at him sideways. "Before it all burns again."

Gaara snorted quietly but couldn't help feeling amused. "If I touch it, it automatically burns." He kept his tone flat, deadpan. "Your stir-fry is doomed."

Temari chuckled, and as Gaara watched her green eyes twinkle, he dared to hope that one day, even if it were years in the future, he could look at her and call her _nee-san._

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to Darkhelmetj for beta reading and everyone who reviewed and/or faved Part I. Again, this is dedicated to those who asked me to write about Temari and her bonds with her brothers._


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